


go home

by iwachanpls



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cussing, Drinking, F/M, Heavy Angst, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Time Skips, a very sad oikawa, i don't know why i did this myself or him, this is really emo please turn back if you don't want to read angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwachanpls/pseuds/iwachanpls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life moves slowly and suddenly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	go home

**Author's Note:**

> title: go home - julien baker
> 
> summary: fireflies - violent
> 
> feel free to this listen to this [ playlist](http://yplisetsky.tumblr.com/post/149641080133/go-home-an-iwaoi-playlist-1-go-home-julien) while reading for the full affect

Tooru couldn’t tell you the last time he could breathe. For as long as he could remember he had trouble inhaling and exhaling; his breath coming out in ragged spurts as he tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. The sticky summer heat settled over his skin, beads of sweat threatening to run down the nape of neck. The sheets of his bed lay crumpled up at the foot of the bed. His felt his phone vibrate again. He couldn’t bring himself to pick it up. He already knew it was the group chat responding to the news. 

Hajime was engaged. 

Tooru felt tears beading at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill. He couldn’t let himself cry; he had always been stronger than that. The world felt like it had been plunged into silence, with nothing left but an empty static. He no longer could hear the traffic bustling beneath his apartment window. The pathetic whir of the cheap plastic fan was virtually non-existent. Gravity pressed down on his chest; the only reason why he felt like he was suffocating. Tooru repeated it to himself in his head like a mantra. His phone continued to vibrate, and with each vibration, Tooru could feel himself sinking deeper into the mattress.

Hajime was engaged.

Hajime was happy and engaged. He was getting married. He was finally ready to move onto that next chapter in his life. He was ready to settle down, start a family, and explore things that neither of them had done so far. He was moving on, growing up, and–

Tooru couldn’t let himself finish the thought. 

-

Hajime had met Masumi his second year in college. 

Tooru had been there the moment Hajime’s eyes locked with her’s from across the school library. His face flushed as she let a small smile spread across her delicate features. She gently brushed back a stray strand of hair that had managed to escape her neat ponytail. Tooru could practically hear the increase in Hajime’s heartbeat, the opposite of the sinking feeling that appeared in the pit of his stomach. 

His face blanched as Hajime stood up mumbling a quick excuse me as he made his way over to where she was standing. Tooru picked nervously at the skin around his fingernails – he didn’t want to see what was going to inevitably happen. She would giggle nervously as she wrote down her number on the pale pink stationery she carried around. Hajime would rub nervously at the back of his neck, a shy smile gracing his features as he firmly grasped it before stuffing it into his pocket. 

By the time Hajime had sat himself down at the table, the skin around Tooru’s left index finger was bleeding. 

-

“Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan!” 

Hajime turned around begrudgingly to meet Tooru’s dopey face. He shoved the envelope in his hand into Hajime’s face. 

“Guess what Iwa-chan? It’s my fourth confession this week,” he said, tauntingly. Hajime quickly made to grab the letter in front of his face but Tooru’s reflexes were faster. 

It was the beginning of their last year of middle school. Tooru had shot up over the summer. His limbs were lanky and even paler than before his. His fine features finally fit his face and what little baby fat he still had distributed itself well on his newly thin frame. Within the first few weeks of school he had become the source of gossip between of the girls in their new class. 

“What makes you think I care Shittykawa? Also, stop using that nickname,” gruffed out Hajime. 

While Tooru had gotten taller, Hajime had gotten bulkier. All the time they spent playing outside in the summer sun left Hajime with a sun kissed complexion that no one could rival. Tooru just burned and turned as red as a lobster. The coarse muscles that adorned his arms strained as he motioned to pick up his backpack and walk away from Tooru. 

“So rude Iwa-chan! I know you’re just jealous,” Tooru called after him. 

Once he was sure Hajime was successfully down the hall and far away from his eyesight, he carefully opened up the letter. He took a cursory glance at it before tearing it up into tiny pieces and depositing it in the classroom receptacle. Tooru stared down sadly at the shreds of paper as they slowly floated down to the bottom. It was his fourth confession this week and also his fourth rejection this week. He could already see the tears welling up in poor Ayame-chan’s eyes as he told her he wasn’t interested in that saccharine tone he always used. 

He knew it wouldn’t happen. Tooru could dream of it every night, but Hajime would _never_ confess to him. Tooru felt a shudder run down his spine at the pang of rejection he felt in his chest. He started gathering his stuff up before the feeling of disgust could let itself bury in the marrow of his bones. 

-

It was the fifth time this month that Hajime cancelled his plans with Tooru to go out with Masumi. 

It was the fifth time this month that Tooru spent the night cradled within himself on the bathroom floor; too afraid to leave the comfort of the cold tile. 

They had been dating for four months now and progressively Tooru saw less and less of Hajime. It had started out innocently enough: Hajime cancelling last minute on lunch plans, but making them up the following day. A day late turned into a week late which eventually turned into “Oh, I’ll make it up to you soon!”. With every skipped movie night and study session, Tooru slowly felt his resolve cracking. Sure, Hajime had had girlfriends in the past, but never before did one consume almost every waking moment of his free time. 

Tooru’s fingers gripped the rim of the toilet seat as he felt the bile rising up his throat. He doesn’t know why he gets like this when he thinks of Masumi – at least that’s what he tells himself to keep the tears at bay and the contents of his stomach where they belong. He shakily ran his fingers through his hair, the matted strands catching on the scabs around his fingernails. Tooru silently reminded himself that he should probably restock on bandages. No one wants to see the product of his nervous habits. 

It was already that time of the night where Tooru’s knee screamed at him, pushing to get himself onto a softer surface. He limped over to the sink, his eyes finally catching on his reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were sunken and riddled with reddish veins. It pained Tooru to scowl – the cuts on his bottom lip protesting against the movement. 

He took a wary look at his medication sitting on the edge of the sink before shoving it into the depths of the medicine cabinet. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

-

Tooru slammed the trunk of his car. The last of his belongings stowed away; not as if there was much to take anyway. He gently kissed his landlady’s cheek with a promise that he’d be back to visit soon. He had been renting a room in her house right outside of Tokyo. She was nice enough, and surprised at Tooru’s abrupt moving announcement. He had quit his job at the admissions office at a university in Tokyo and secured an assistant coaching position at a much smaller school in Osaka.

The drive to Osaka was long, but the wind whipping through the windows as he drove was a much welcomed sensation. The feeling of the sting of the wind kept his mind occupied enough. It had been days since Tooru had actually _felt_ something. Tooru hadn’t spoken to Hajime since he had received the engagement text. The curt “ _congrats!_ ” the last text in their shared messages. Tooru swore to himself he wouldn’t reach out to Hajime until he was settled into his new place over 500 kilometers away. 

The door to his new place creaked open as Tooru dropped his first piece of luggage in the foyer. The hallway opened up to a modest living room which was connected to a quaint kitchen. The furnishing were modern, but humble. Tooru lugged his baggage into his new bedroom and finally let himself sag onto the futon. His hair hung limply in front his eyes as he stared at the scuffs in his sneakers. His phone felt like a lead weight in his pocket.

Hajime had called him twice as he had been driving, but he didn’t have the heart to pick up. 

He fumbled with the lock screen – he couldn’t control how badly he was shaking. One ring, two rings, three rings…

“Tooru! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days, what gives?”

Tooru reflectively shrunk back from the phone.

“Ah! Iwa-chan, about that…,” he trailed off, “I’ve been really busy! I – uh, well, I kind of sort of moved?” 

He could hear the agitated sigh on the other end and Tooru flinched, again. 

“You did what?” Tooru struggled to force himself to inhale, his fingers scrambled for purchase on his worn down jeans. He could feel the anger radiating off of Hajime in waves, and he wasn’t even physically there. 

“Look, I’m really sorry? I was just so busy! And I assumed you would be so preoccupied with your engagement; I didn’t want you to worry,” he rushed out. His fingernails were leaving tiny crescents in the crook of his opposite elbow. “I’m not too far. I’m in Osaka. I got a job as an assistant volleyball coach at a university here; it’ll be a good change, promise.” Tooru tasted the acidity of his lie as he finished his sentence. 

“What the fuck Oikawa? You just picked up and moved? You didn’t even bother to consult me about this. Do you even know anyone in Osaka? How could you leave your doctor in Tokyo? You were doing just fine before.”

Fine. He was doing just fine before. 

“I’m sorry, I – I should’ve said something. It’s okay. I know what I’m doing. I’ll send you my address, come visit when you have free time! I’ve gotta, uh, go. I still have all my stuff in the car.” 

Tooru was already pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging up before Hajime could keep him on the line. 

-

Tooru muffled his wail in Hajime’s chest as his arms gripped harder around Hajime’s shoulder. They had lost the last volleyball match of their high school career. The damp fabric of Hajime’s jersey cooled his heated cheeks. He couldn’t stop his hiccupping breaths, the quiet room echoing back his ugly sobs for him to hear. 

All he could feel was Hajime’s warmth and the scent of spring embedded into his skin. 

Hajime gently ran his lips over the crown of Tooru’s hair; his breath gently moving the wild strands. Tooru felt his heart go into overdrive and his palms were suddenly clammy against the fabric. He gently extricated himself from his arms – he couldn’t do this, not right now at least. He slowly brought his gaze up to meet Hajime’s and was met with the same sorrow and pain that he felt. Hajime’s fingers worked their way into the back of Tooru’s hair as he brought their foreheads together. 

Tooru could smell the sweet smell of sports drink as it radiated off of Hajime’s breath. The space was warm between them and Tooru struggled to inhale given their proximity. Those deep chocolate eyes bore into his own as Tooru raised his hand to run the calloused pad of his thumb along Hajime’s jawline. Tooru felt like he had earned some sort of prize when he felt Hajime shudder under his touch. 

Tooru knew he would grow to regret what he did next. 

With a shift of his upper body, his lips gently grazed the ones in front of him. His eyes fluttered shut at the searing heat that consumed his whole body. Hajime’s lips were chapped, yet soft. The body connected to his through the faintest of touches had become stock still. The interaction had lasted – maybe – six seconds before Tooru could feel the shove at his shoulders. Tooru’s head hit against the head board and the blossoming pain was an afterthought to watching Hajime wipe off his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Get out.”

Tooru scrambled to pick himself up. He stumbled over his too long legs as he reached for his bag and slammed the bedroom door open. And then he ran. He ran all the way down Hajime’s stairs, the two blocks it took to get home, and then into his own home.

Tooru didn’t leave his room for a week.

-

Hajime moved in with Masumi shortly after graduating from college. They lived in a quaint apartment in the suburbs of Tokyo. Hajime continued on with his medical studies at a nearby university and worked as a part-time TA. Masumi had gone ahead and began teaching the 4th grade right after graduation. They were the perfect couple: Hajime with his bright and shining future; Masumi with her tender nature and loving heart. People crooned that they would one day make a beautiful family. 

Tooru just barely made it through his last year. He had been cut from the volleyball team – his knee having given up midway through the season. Without the consistency of volleyball and the consistency of Hajime constantly in his life, Tooru quickly deteriorated. The number of nights spent on the bathroom floor became increasingly frequent. He stopped attending class and soon stopped leaving his apartment all together. Life continued and all Tooru could do was stare blankly at the stick-on stars on his ceiling. Like he, they were faded and barely hanging on by a thread; threatening to collapse at the slightest provocation.

Hajime had invited him out to have dinner with Masumi and him. He hadn’t seen Tooru in weeks – too preoccupied with work and schoolwork. Tooru stared down the fading bruises on his arms where he had gripped himself too hard in the midst of a panic attack as he sat across from them at dinner. He chuckled at whatever Masumi had just said, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Tooru caught Hajime gripping her hand tighter, lacing their fingers and he pressed his knuckles into his thigh as a silent response. 

“Oikawa-san, I know this great girl who I think you would be a really good fit with,” Masumi said to him her voice brimming with happiness. 

“Ah, thank you so much for the offer Kurogane-kun! I’m afraid I don’t necessarily swing that way.” Tooru added air quotes to the end of his sentence and laughed. His eyes shifted to meet with Hajime’s and he noticed he had gone exceptionally stiff. Masumi blushed and stuttered out a cough. 

“Oh…I’m sorry. I didn’t know, Hajime never mentioned anything to me.” Tooru kept his gaze trained on Hajime who shifted uncomfortably in his seat and now refused to meet his gaze. 

Oh. 

“It’s quite all right! Not too many people know so it’s not a surprise that Iwa-chan didn’t tell you,” he replied, his knuckles had gone white the pressure his fist was making. 

Hajime walked Masumi back to their apartment and then excused himself citing that he was going to walk Tooru to the train station. Masumi kissed him sweetly on the lips before she turned to bid goodnight to Tooru. He felt that same churning jealousy as she walked into their shared apartment and shut the door firmly behind her. Hajime grabbed Tooru by the bicep, practically dragging him through the hall and down the stairs. 

“What were you trying to accomplish back there Oikawa?” Hajime had him pressed up against the side of the apartment building, his body caging him in against the cement. 

“Uh, uhm – I, I don’t know. It just kind of slipped, I didn’t realize you hadn’t…told her,” Tooru managed to stutter out. The words felt heavy in his mouth, his tongue like a dead weight. He felt weak and insignificant under Hajime’s gaze. 

Hajime’s eyes softened, his hand dropping down to settle itself on Tooru’s shoulder. He exhaled as his thumb rubbed slow circles into the protruding bones on his shoulder. Tooru leaned into the touch, craving that physical contact. He hadn’t been touched by another person in weeks. Hajime pulled him forward until there wasn’t any space in between them. 

“I’m sorry for getting angry at you,” Hajime mumbled into the crease of his neck. 

Tooru felt like his skin was on fire – his senses overwhelmed by Hajime’s proximity. He still smelled the same way he had all those years ago, something distinctly him. His throat constricted and he bit his tongue until he broke the skin and a coopery taste filled his mouth. His mouth was filled with cotton; too dry to form any coherent words. He only meekly nodded his acceptance and brought his arms around Hajime’s upper half. 

And they stood like that in the dark for what seemed like hours. In reality it was only a few minutes. Tooru didn’t realize he had been crying until Hajime pulled away and wiped at his cheeks, his fingers lingering over his sharp cheekbone. Hajime looked at him – the silent question for the reason behind those tears making itself clear to Tooru.

“I’ve just been really tired, yeah, tired. Exhausted really. I just needed this,” Tooru pulled away a sad smile, much like the one from earlier, illuminating his graceful features. Under the pale streetlamp his skin seemed paper thin; his smile threatening to tear where it was most vulnerable. No matter how much Tooru tried shying away from his gaze, Hajime kept staring. Staring hard and long as if his brain was trying to come up with just the right words to say, just the right things to do. He snapped out of it as soon as his cell phone beeping incessantly. They both already knew who was calling; Hajime quickly picking up the phone and ushering out a quick apology and a promise that he would be home in a minute. 

“I’ve gotta get back, Masumi is wondering where I am.” 

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t really fine. 

-

When they were six, Hajime promised that he would always be Tooru’s best friend. 

At fifteen, Hajime promised again that he would always be Tooru’s best friend – no matter what.

They were both laying in Hajime’s backyard. The summer sun casting deep long shadows into the long grasses. Tooru’s confession sat heavy in the air; the tension settling itself like an anvil on Tooru’s entire being. A few minutes had passed, but neither one of them had spoken. Tooru closed his eyes, the regret building and threatening to bubble over as his stomach did somersaults. All he could hear was the cry of the cicadas and even more subdued than that was the even rhythm of Hajime’s breath. The silence stretched until Hajime finally broke it. 

“So, you’re into guys?”

Tooru cringed at having his confession repeated back to him; Hajime took that as the affirmation he needed. Hajime crawled his hand across the space between them until it met Tooru’s. Tooru felt his breathing stall as Hajime laced their fingers together and squeezed as hard as he possibly could. The oppressive feeling in the air dissipated almost as quickly as it had situated itself and Tooru let out the breath that he knew he was holding. 

“If you think this changes things – it doesn’t. You’ll always be the world's biggest pain in my ass.”

Hajime turned himself on his side. Bringing his fingers up to place a chaste kiss at where their hands connected. Tooru forgot how to think. 

“You’ll always be my best friend and no matter what you do, I won’t think any different. I promise.”

And for the first time in his life Tooru didn’t feel like crying.

-

His new assistant volleyball coach position was the change of pace that he needed. The sound of volleyballs hitting the polished floor brought him the type of serenity he hadn’t felt in a very long time. His all girls team was great – driven, focused, affable, and above all, extremely skilled. They quickly became the family that he had so long desired for since finishing up high school. Their success was his success and for the first time in a long time, Tooru was actually moderately pleased with himself. 

He set up a consistent schedule for himself: wake-up at 6 AM, go for a swim at the community pool, make a light breakfast, work, prepare dinner, and then some nightly leisurely reading. In the spots in between he kept himself busy with cleaning, volunteer work, team activities, and the occasional friend. It was easier to feel less lonely when you were constantly occupied – and it worked, to a certain extent. 

_Hajime is busy and isn’t thinking about you, so why waste your time thinking about him?_

It had been months – 4? 6? Tooru didn’t really know – since he had moved to Osaka and in that time communication with Hajime had slowed down to a trickle. He could see from Facebook that he also kept himself extremely busy: finally graduating from med school, getting accepted into the residency program at an elite Tokyo hospital, and the engagement party that Tooru never received an invitation for. It was in these quiet moments at 2 AM that Tooru let himself think about Hajime; let himself imagine that it was him standing next to Hajime during all these milestones and not her. 

Tooru tried to forge Hajime out his mind; he failed spectacularly every time. 

He had taken to seeking out contact wherever he could get it. Saturday night, without fail, he was out seeking someone who just maybe was good enough to be Hajime. He, too, often failed at that.

The music in the club was deafeningly loud. The ominous lighting creating an aura over the thrash of bodies on the dance floor. Tooru sat perched by the bar, eyes scanning the crowd for familiar features: short black hair, flawlessly browned skin, and that air of confidence that Hajime carries so well. It must’ve been his lucky night. Dark brown eyes met his from the opposite side of the bar and Tooru knew that he wouldn’t be spending the night alone, again. 

Tooru felt his hips being pressed into the bed, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the messy bed sheets under him. He couldn’t differentiate if it was the alcohol coursing through his veins or a genuine interest in the body above him that was making him so brazen; so open. Tooru hadn’t wanted to be touched in months, not since Hajime had last hugged him. His eyes settled on the dark ceiling above him as he carded his fingers through dark locks. If he closed his eyes hard enough he could imagine that it was someone else carefully spreading him open, sinking inside, and bringing him the release that he deserved. 

The marks on his body took weeks to fade. No matter how hard he scrubbed in the shower – usually till he was raw, on the verge of bleeding – they wouldn’t disappear. 

-

“I think I’m in love with Masumi.”

It had been a Wednesday afternoon, halfway through the semester. Hajime lay with his head in Tooru’s lap the rest of his body laid sprawled across Tooru’s too small bed. Hajime felt the fingers carding through his hair still, albeit momentarily, before the motion continued. 

They had been dating for two and a half months; Tooru had written the date down on his calendar. 

“Wow…that’s big. I didn’t think you were capable of loving somebody Iwa-chan,” Tooru said his eyes focused straight ahead, staring at absolutely nothing. Hajime chuckled from his spot in his lap and let out a pleased sigh. Usually Hajime would scold him for using that ‘childish’ nickname, but caught in his own reverie he let it slide.

Tooru wished he had. 

“I don’t know, there’s just something so special about her? It’s like she just gets me y’know? I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before.”

Tooru could feel the blood in his body coagulating all at once; his spine going rigid, his mind going blank. It was as if a shot of poison had been injected straight into his veins. Tooru stayed silent for a moment; his words feeling inadequate to him, his mind supplying nonsensical responses. 

_Why don’t you feel that way about me?_

-

It started with a phone call: 5:56 p.m. on a Wednesday. Tooru had just gotten home from work, struggling to heave his bag of groceries and fetch his cell phone out at the same time. He dreaded answering the phone these days and he’d been reluctant to even unlock his screen to see who it was, and then –

_Incoming call from Iwaizumi Hajime._

Tooru stared down at the screen. He wasn’t sure he was breathing. 

His phone continued to buzz and ring, and then, it didn’t. 

_Call ended._

Tooru swallowed thickly. His thumb hovered over the now black screen; Hajime had ended the call before he could even fathom what he would say to him. Tooru knew the wedding plans were going along swiftly. Save-the-dates had already been sent out and like a good friend, Tooru pinned it to his fridge. He stared at it a lot, but especially in those late hours when he found himself slumped against the kitchen table, a half forgotten glass of something just in fingertips reach. 

His phone vibrated once more.

“Hey, Hajime,” Tooru choked, “What’s – what’s up?”

It was silent, for a moment or two. Tooru stared at his toes. His socks had a hole in them.

It had only been a matter of time, really. 

“Tooru, I want you to be my best man.”

Tooru’s shoulders slacked, his fingers losing grip on his phone. It clattered to the floor, bouncing once or twice – the screen cracked – before Tooru exhaled a minuscule, shattering breath. His ears rang. Tooru felt a tingling throughout his whole body – almost as if all his limbs had simultaneously fallen asleep.  
He sprinted to the bathroom, and hurled over the toilet; tears and his lunch emptied inside.

The sunlight filtered in through a slit in the curtains. Tooru stiffly turned his head to the side, his eyes registering that the clock said it was half past noon. He buried his face back into the sheets inhaling the stale scent of sweat and the salt of his tears. He was late to work, but what did it matter? He had hardly slept, Hajime’s voice in his ear constantly on repeat: _Tooru, I want you to be my best man – I want you to be my best man – my best man–_

Tooru slapped himself across his face. It hurt less than expected, but it was louder. The sound echoed in his empty apartment. He raised his left hand, and hit his other cheek, too; once for when he didn’t pick up the phone and once for when he did.

_Tooru, I want you to be my best man._

He felt nauseous once more, but his stomach was empty; he hadn’t eaten anything for twenty-four hours. The thought of food made him ill. Tooru felt his body being absorbed by the mattress; his limbs heavy, his mind overworked and exhausted. He had never called out sick, so one absence wasn’t unusual. Without a reason to leave, Tooru just sank further. 

When he was in high school, Hajime would knock on his door and drag him to practice and school, though now–

_Tooru, I want you to be my best man._

Hajime had other priorities. He’d soon be married and Masumi would probably want kids, Hajime too. 

_What would he name them? In high school, he told me it’d be his grandparent’s name; is that still true, Hajime? Do I still know you, like that?_

Hajime had grown to become a complete stranger; another phone number he never dialed, saved in an impersonal, impeccably organized manner. 

That was fine.

He could learn to forget him that way.

-

Tooru vaguely registered the banging on his dorm door. 

“Tooru, I need you to own this goddamn fucking door, right now.”

His mind processed that Hajime was angry, but he couldn’t figure out why. He gingerly lifted himself out of bed, his joints sore from unuse. His fingers hardly could comb themselves through the knotted, nearly matted mess of his hair. The banging increased with every second he took to make it the door. The constant headache he had been nursing for the past day grew with intensity, but Tooru’s throat was so dry he couldn’t just tell him to stop. 

He listlessly flicked the lock and the door flung open in the half a second it took him to pull his hand away. Hajime was angry – wait, seething was a more appropriate adjective to use. 

“What the fuck Tooru? What the fuck do you think you’re doing just fucking disappearing for four days? I spent 2 hours outside of your dorm yesterday trying to get you to open this fucking door,” Hajime rushed out. His words were coming out too fast for Tooru to process. He was too tired, too exhausted to formulate a response. 

“Iwa-chan, I’m – I’m, it’s – I was just really sleepy. Isn’t it Friday?” Tooru struggled to speak, his words slurring and sounding like mush even to his own ears. 

“It’s Tuesday, Tooru. You’ve had me worried sick,” Hajime’s voice cracked on the last syllables. He banged his fist on the wall, more out of frustration than anger. 

“What’s gotten into you? You haven’t done this in forever, why now?”

And then it hit Tooru like a flood. Hajime had called him that past Friday, giddy with excitement. He had officially asked Masumi to be his girlfriend and she had said yes. It was as if some sort of light in the back of Tooru’s mind had turned off. 

It felt like the beginning of the end. 

-

A day passed, then two, then three, then–

“Oikawa? You home? I– _Oikawa!_ ”

He stepped out of his room and swayed down the corridor. His vision was blurred. He felt like there was a thin veil of gauze draped over his eyes. His curtains were drawn tight, the light hurt his eyes. It was dusk and he could barely make out the man’s silhouette: messy hair, broad shoulders, baggy clothing. Realization lit up his brain; like a light to a match. 

“Iwa– Iwa-chan?” he croaked, stepping closer to the figure. 

Tetsurou froze.

“What?” he spoke, “Oikawa– what? It’s me, Tetsurou; it’s Tetsurou. D’you remember me?”

Tooru’s breath trembled in the silence. His eyes stung and he lifted his palms to press into his eyeballs. He sobbed, shoulders shaking and chest aching. Tetsurou dropped his bag and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Tooru to keep him standing; his knees gave out, he wanted to slide onto the floor. Tetsurou wouldn’t let him though, his arms hooking strongly under Tooru’s underarms as he moved to cradle him. Tetsurou’s cooed soft words were soothing in comparison to the ringing in his ears. Tetsurou shouldered open the bathroom door, letting Tooru slump against him as he started filling the tub. Tooru hung onto him; he always had been stronger than Tooru gave him credit for.

“C’mon,” hushed Tetsurou as he heaved him into the bath; clothes and all, “Atta boy; there you go, watch your step.”

Tooru hadn’t removed his hands. His eyes started to hurt, but he kept his palms pressed there, as though he could with enough force and sheer willpower press back the tears threatening to spill over. 

_Hajime, Hajime, Hajime– Tooru, I want you to be my best man–_

He couldn’t breathe, then. 

He screamed, then sobbed. 

Tetsurou didn’t seem phased. He pried Tooru’s fingers off his face. he’d been clawing the skin there, dark red marks marring his pale, gaunt features. Tetsurou held onto his hands until he’d stopped trembling and only let go when he no longer felt like he was being eaten up from the inside out. something terrible had nestled itself inside of Tooru, and it wanted to get out– _get out– get out–_

“Hey, Tooru? Tooru; you feeling better? I– I’m gonna give you a cold shower, so you don’t faint. That okay with you?” Tetsurou asked. His voice was miles away.  
Tooru nodded. With a sigh, Tetsurou stood, and grabbed the showerhead. He turned on the cold water, and sprayed it over Tooru’s head and shoulders.  
He could feel nothing. He was numb; from head to toe, inside and out. 

Tooru stared at the tiles before him. Briefly, he registered that Tetsurou sat beside him, and rubbed a hand up and down his spine, his other palm clasping his shoulder. Tetsurou could feel the knobs of his spine; protruding profusely and extremely delicate all at once. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened, now? I tried to call you, but you–“

Tooru couldn’t find the words. 

The tears started again, slowly, and then all at once. 

-

“Hajime, will you ever stop taking care of me?”

“Never,” he whispered back.

-

Tetsurou carefully peeled off Tooru’s clothes. Gentle fingers soothed over jarringly misshapen scars that decorated the back of his shoulder; as if he had been continuously picking at the skin – Tetsurou shivered at the thought. He slowly laid him back against the wall of the tub, the warm water starting to fill at a steady pace. Tooru’s eyelids fluttered close and the shuddering breath he let out sent another tremor down Tetsurou’s spine. 

For lack of a better word, Tooru stunk. Tetsurou couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time Tooru actually had a shower, let alone a bath. Tooru lay almost limply in the water; tensing up when Tetsurou passed the soapy rag over his body. He rubbed lazy circles into Tooru’s scalp and slowly pried apart the knots that had called his hair home. By the time Tetsurou finished, Tooru had stopped crying and physically was no longer shaking; there was no telling how shaken up he was _inside_. 

Tetsurou picked him up – drenching himself in the process – and proceeded to dry him off. Tooru nuzzled into his touch when he toweled off his hair, embracing the warms hands caressing him. Tetsurou sighed and whispered words of affection. He wrapped the towel around Tooru’s lower body and carried him over to the couch. Tetsurou couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time that Tooru had eaten; his stomach sunken and ribs on full display. He wanted to cry from just looking at him; what happened? 

Tetsurou went rooting around the kitchen to find something to make, hearty enough to be nutritious, but still easy on the stomach. He settled on a simple broth he found in the cupboards; nothing in the fridge was deemed salvageable. He found Tooru’s cell phone – dead, of course – lying face down underneath his kitchen table.  
The screen lit up and Tetsurou was met with over twenty missed calls and too many text messages for him to count. The majority had been sent a week ago. A few from him, a handful from the college, but the majority of them were from one person: Hajime. 

**Iwa-chan~:**

_are you okay? you hung the phone pretty quickly_

_hello??? earth to shittykawa_

_tooru, seriously, answer your phone don’t do this again_

_are you off your meds? i need you to call me when you can_

Tetsurou couldn’t stomach to read the rest; it felt too personal, too intimate. This was obviously something that Hajime had helped him with in the past. Tetsurou eyes wandered off the cell phone and onto the stack of papers lying messily on the kitchen table. Underneath it all, three unfilled prescription papers. Tetsurou flicked the corner of the top one, a ‘tch’ the only sound to fill the eerily quiet apartment. 

Hajime answered the phone almost instantly.

“Hello? Tooru – I, is that you?” 

Tetsurou could feel the worry in his voice and his heart clenched in agony. How long had he been staring at his phone waiting for this phone call? 

“Iwaizumi, it’s me – ah, Tetsurou,” he mumbled out. Hajime’s following sigh was filled with relief, but obviously tinged with the disappointment that Tooru wasn’t the one on the line.

“Tetsurou, oh thank goodness – ah, fuck. How’s he doing?”

“I mean, he’s really not well,” Tetsurou spoke into the phone, “Hajime, you have to– you need to see him. He isn’t telling me anything, and I’m worried that something serious has happened. Are his parents okay? Did you call them?”

Hajime sighed.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I did, they’re fine. Fuck – I should’ve come down sooner; this is all my fault.”

Tetsurou audibly gulped.

“I’m gonna come get him, I have – I have to, I gotta,” Hajime gasped out – he was crying, “I’m coming.”

-

They were eleven the first time Hajime rescued Tooru.

Tooru had made the idiotic decision to run away from home. His parents had announced their divorce and Tooru stubbornly declared: “If I can’t live with both of you, then I won’t live with either of you!” Tooru’s mother immediately came over to Hajime’s house seeking out information as to where her son could have gone. 

Hajime promised he would find him and bring him back safely. 

There was a clearing beyond a bundle of trees about a mile and a half from both of their houses. Tooru used to drag Hajime out there to sit out on the open field and stare at the open night sky. 

He waited until after dusk before setting out for the field. His bike’s tires crackling against the pavement; the road going unsteady the closer he got. Hidden behind a bush he could spot the tell tale red frame of Tooru’s bike. He parked his bike and made his way down the path they had forged through so many visits. 

Tooru looked so small in the middle of the field – the stretch of sky enrapturing him. A toothy grin spread crinkled the corners of his eyes once he spotted Hajime nearing. He could see the stars reflected back in Tooru’s warm eyes; Hajime’s breath hitched. The look of pure wonder and amazement as he shifted his eyes back up warming Hajime from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his feet. 

“Oy, dumbass. You need to get back home; your mom is worried sick.” 

Tooru quickly looked back at him, shock adorning his features. Hajime took in his red nose; the wind had been particularly fierce that night. 

“I don’t wanna go back…it’s not fair,” Tooru said stubbornly, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet. Hajime grabbed Tooru’s wrist, his hands warm against the chilled skin. He tugged him into an embrace, Tooru’s head fitting snuggly into his chest – he wasn’t taller than Hajime, yet. 

“They still love you. They just want what’s best for you…and being together isn’t good for you. Plus, you still have me. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s get back, you can sleep over; we can even share the futon.”

Tooru had always thought that Hajime was wise beyond his years. 

-

A white ceiling, powder blue walls, and crisp sheets. 

He remembered this room. 

_I think I’m in love with Masumi._

_We’re engaged._

_Tooru, I want you to be my best man._

Hajime’s home. 

Wait, not just his house. _Their_ house. 

Tooru shot up in bed; he was gonna vomit- he had to get out of here. Why would he bring him here? Tooru tripped over the sheets as he scrambled to dress himself, his clothes in the luggage by the closet. His bag felt heavy in his hand, the weight assuring him that this wasn’t necessarily some sort of vivid nightmare. Tooru flung the door to the room open; the frame rattled harshly in his exertion.

He was almost out, was this close to escaping when all of a sudden there was a figure trapping him at the end of the hallway. Tooru looked up – eyes panicked – and all of a sudden wished he hadn’t. Hajime stood there with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his mouth pinched in a frown, and eyebrows knitted in concern. But it was his eyes that made Tooru still– he couldn’t quite place the emotion behind them. 

“H-Hajime, I really really need to get out of here. I – just – fuck, I really can’t be _here_. Not now and – just please get of my way,” Tooru pleaded, garnering the courage to approach him. Hajime’s expression was unmoving; it seemed as if his presence only grew more imposing the closer he got. 

“I’m a grown ass man, shit – I need to fucking leave and why can’t you just listen to me? I – I can’t fucking be here, god,” Tooru was practically yelling. His face was mere centimeters from Hajime’s. His breathing was coming out ragged, manic almost. Tooru let his bag fall to the floor with a heavy sound and felt his fist weakly collide with Hajime’s chest. 

“You – you, you can’t do this to me. Please,” the last part left his lips in a whisper. His head hung low hoping that Hajime would fail to notice the tears seamlessly falling across his cheeks – he didn’t. And for what seemed like the millionth time in Tooru’s life, Hajime hugged him. It was bone crushing, soul bearing, and exactly what Tooru needed. 

“I can’t let you go. You should’ve seen yourself two days ago. I _can’t_ ,” he said.

Even Tooru thought his heart was breaking, and so he stayed. 

-

Kurogane Masumi. 

Kurogane meaning iron; Masumi meaning true lucidity. 

Tooru rolled the name in his mouth. It felt weird on his tongue. 

He shot her a charming smile from across the table, he could see Hajime roll his eyes from his peripheral. She was pretty – a delicate, petite girl with clear skin, doe eyes, and raven pin straight hair. Tooru was particularly drawn into her bow shaped lips. She was more than pretty actually; a true classic beauty. He could see why Hajime liked her. 

“Hmmm…so, Kurogane-kun, may I call you that? What’re you studying?” Tooru’s smile never faltering, but his fingers fiddled nervously with the edge of his t-shirt under the table. 

“I’m studying education, I hope to teach elementary school right after graduation,” she responded. Tooru wanted to almost throw out a verbal ‘tch’ at her response, but he refrained. He smoothed the mottled edge of his shirt and pressed it flat against his stomach. Hajime’s eyes had settled on him, catching every quirk and slight movement. 

“That’s so wonderful! What an admirable profession. What do your parents do?” 

Hajime sought out his eyes and in his stare the plead to “shut the fuck up and please stop grilling my girlfriend”. Tooru only smirked, the glint in his eyes affirming that the answers to that was absolutely a no. Hajime should’ve known better by now. Hajime hadn’t had many girlfriends in his life – Oikawa always managed to scare them away within the week. 

She pushed back a strand of hair behind her ear, “my father works in finance and my mother works for a top publishing company,” she smiled softly as Hajime threaded his fingers with hers at the same time. Hajime let their entwined hands rest on top of the table. 

“Ah, so a pretty girl from a good family, getting a good education? You have my approval Iwa-chan.”

Tooru threw them another paper thin smile before putting down cash for his portion of the check and making his swift exit. 

The food hadn’t even arrived. 

-

Three nearly silent rasps on the door were followed up by a murmured “Oikawa-san”. 

Tooru knew she was there even before she gathered up the courage to knock on the door. He slid out of the sheets and hesitated before wrapping his fingers around the doorknob. The metal was cold against his fingers – he was sure his fingers were colder. 

Masumi looked beautiful as ever. Her hair was cropped short in a stylish bob, her features having thinned themselves out as she shed the last of the baby weight she carried on her face in college. Her gaze held that same inquisitive look that Tooru had always remembered and felt too uncomfortable to meet. Instead, he sought out the ring on her left hand. The ring was exceedingly simple, but it suited her. Tooru, by instinct, looked down as his left hand. 

Nothing. 

“How’re you feeling Oikawa-san?” Tooru snapped back into reality and stepped back to let her into the room, going to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Much better Kurogane-kun! Glad to be feeling a little bit more like my normal self,” he chuckled. While the meds certainly helped, Tooru was lying through his teeth. One look at Masumi and she knew he was too. 

Leveling him with a steady look she asked him again, “...how’re you really feeling?” 

Like I want to fucking die. Like I want to walk out that door and go so far away neither of you will ever see me again. Like my whole world is ending and it’s being shoved right back into my face constantly; being force fed to me and I’m choking on it. 

Tooru couldn’t give her a response – his mouth filtering what his mind was trying to get him to say. He could only manage a watery smile. And in that moment, Tooru had realized he had just revealed his lifelong secret. Without any words he had said it out loud for Masumi to hear:

_I’m in love with Hajime._

“Oikawa-san, pardon me if this is too brash, but how long?”

“My whole life.”

Masumi hummed. 

“You know he doesn’t sleep some nights, he lays awake all night, thinking about you,” she continued, “he worries himself until the circles under his eyes are as dark as bruises.”

Tooru didn’t know what to say. Masumi’s hand gripped his tightly, the band of her ring digging into his skin harshly. Her hands were free of any imperfections while Tooru’s was marred with healing scrapes and scabs. 

She paused. 

Tooru stilled. 

“…I don’t fault you,” her voice was even and clear, “I think I’ve always known, he just hasn’t accepted it yet, I think.” 

Regret filled every crevice of Tooru’s body: every vein, every strand of hair, every cell.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“I forgive you.”

Her words felt like slashes – like dozens of little paper cuts dotting his skin. Tooru could see it in her eyes that she was telling the truth; her eyes open and full of understanding. 

The choked sob on the other side of the door caused Tooru’s blood to run ice cold, his hand vacating Masumi’s in a flash. Masumi’s eyes were cast downward as she gnawed at her bottom lip.

Feet quickly padded away and then there was silence. 

-

Unsure limbs stumbled into Tooru’s dorm room. Tooru couldn’t stop giggling, the rush of their first college party coursing through his system – that, 2 beers, and 4 vodka shots. Hajime held Tooru close as they collapsed onto his bed. 

“Hajime, do you love me?”

Tooru whispered it into the dark, his nose brushing Hajime’s under the bed sheet. The rank smell of cheap alcohol filled the tiny space and Tooru loved every second of it. 

“M’course,” he mumbled in return. His hand fit squarely on Tooru’s hip drawing him in impossibly closer. Their lips brushing with every intake of air. 

Tooru tentatively closed the gap and Hajime accepted the kiss. His lips were wet, but not overly so. They melded perfectly against Tooru’s. His tongue prodded at Hajime’s lower lip asking for entrance – which was obviously granted. Their mouths slotted together and the air under the blanket became stifling; hot with the mixing of their breaths and the shy gasps coming from the both of them. 

Tooru snaked his hand under Hajime’s t-shirt just feeling the rippling muscles of his back and raking his fingernails down his spine. Their limbs knocked against one another in a rush to get closer. Tooru yanked the blanket down from over their heads and pulled back. His eyes were hazy and his chest heaving with effort; Hajime looked nearly identical. Tooru placed a chaste kiss on his lips and grinned against his mouth. 

They exchanged languid kisses until the alcohol wore off and Hajime found himself asleep. Tooru’s body was tremoring with a steady stream of vibrations – he had never felt so alive. Tooru’s alarm woke him up at eleven the next morning. His hand instantly reaching for the body that should have been pressed up against him. 

He was met with cold sheets, long empty. 

-

The raucous noise of the bar was giving Tooru a headache. His eyelids felt heavy with each sobering blink he took. He could see Hajime out of the corner of his eye chatting it up with a friend of his. His fingers felt clammy and cold; he blamed it on the steady stream of condensation from the drink he was nursing.

It had been a week since Tooru’s talk with Masumi. A week since Iwaizumi had spoken a word to him. 

It was two and a half weeks before the wedding.

_Tooru, I want you to be my best man._

Issei had planned Hajime’s bachelor party, a low key affair at a local bar. The party was small: the few people who Hajime regularly kept in touch with from high school, some of his coworkers, and members of the local volleyball league he was a part of. Tooru felt glaringly out of place. Hajime had refused to acknowledge his presence the whole night, preferring to flit around from person to person and skipping him nearly every rotation. 

Hajime’s latest conversation drew to a close and his eyes scanned the bar. Tooru gave him a pained smile when their eyes locked. Hajime held eye contact for a few seconds, but averted his eyes quickly thereafter. Tooru’s shrugged it off as best as he could– this was Hajime’s night after all and here he is trying to reconcile in the middle of his bachelor party. Tooru flagged down the bartender and ordered his third drink of the night; a simple rum and coke. 

Tooru vaguely registered having conversations with his friend, his laughter sounding foreign to his ears. The feeling of his fingers gripping the bar the only thing rooting him to reality. His nails dug painfully into the worn down wood; his fingernails white at the exertion. Hajime had disappeared into the bathroom and hadn’t made it out yet. Tooru kept glancing back at the door and excused himself after five minutes had passed, increasingly worried – he was still his best friend after all. 

Tooru pounded on the bathroom door the sound resounding heavily in his ears. He gulped as he heard the click of the lock and the creak of the door opening just a peak. Hajime haggardly stared at Tooru before dragging him inside; his grip around his collar tight and sure. He let him go once he had him pressed against the wall. 

“Hajime, what’s wro-“

“No, no. It’s not your turn to talk. J-just shut up,” he slurred out, his hand slid down and furled itself in the hem of Tooru’s jacket. Tooru shut his mouth, his cheeks flushing with color. 

“Y-you – I was so happy? I never fucking asked for this – why, why do you have to ruin this for me,” he said, “I was moving on, I was going to live a _normal_ life.”

Hajime’s breath burned against Tooru’s ears, his skin prickling all over with the sensation.

“I don’t think you get it – do you, you really fucking don’t, shit, this isn’t supposed to be happening.” Hajime pulled away, the palms of his hand digging into his eyes. His breath coming out choppy and his body shaking with what Tooru could only guess was anger. 

“You were supposed to get over me; I was supposed to get over _you_. So, why am I still in love with you?” He was practically yelling, pacing the small space. 

He stilled. 

It was almost as if his freight train of thoughts suddenly crashed. The spillover an intelligible mess. 

Tooru blinked slowly. His head hit the cold tile – the pain faint – overwhelmed by the crash of lips against his own. It was brutal; the emotions branding itself against his lips and his body quickly set itself aflame. The hand on the back of his neck clenched harshly, deepening the kiss. He felt teeth nip roughly at his bottom lip; the smell of blood mingling with their breaths. Hajime felt so sure, steady even, against him. Tooru was flooded with that same scent he remembered from years ago – a touch of musk, sweetness, and mostly something indescribably Hajime. 

Tooru’s cheeks were wet, but he wasn’t crying. Tooru pulled away right as Hajime choked on a sob; his entire body convulsing. His arms reaching out to cradle Tooru close, almost as if he couldn’t stand without his support. Hajime’s tears dampened Tooru’s t-shirt and he could feel the fabric sticking to his already sweat slicked skin. Tooru was moving on autopilot as he pressed Hajime’s face further into his chest. 

“I’m so sorry that I love you,” he choked out.  
-

_He just hasn’t accepted it yet._

Hajime wrapped his hands around the coffee cup. The sunrise peeking through the crack in the kitchen curtains. He cheeks felt stiff with the salt of his tears. The padding of soft footsteps down the stairs broke him out of his thoughts. Slender hands came to wrap around his heaving shoulders. 

Masumi. 

Hajime’s mouth gaped open – much like a fish taken out of his fish tank. He was losing air and losing it quickly. Masumi shushed him directly into his ear. Her thumb rubbing careful circles into his collarbone. She held him close, her warm scent easing the tension in his whole body. 

“It’s okay.”

-

Tooru had gone home a week later. Even with Masumi’s reassuring words it was too painful to look Hajime in the eye. Masumi had stopped wearing her ring and Hajime stopped leaving the house. 

Tooru ran his finger in the dust that gathered on his shelves over the past two months; frozen as if time had stopped existing within these four walls. Tetsurou had stopped by prior to his arrival – fresh groceries in the fridge and cupboards. Tooru smiled to himself at the act of kindness and mentally reminded himself to thank him. Although the air in the apartment was stale Tooru couldn’t help but want it all filling his lungs; a reminder of a time where he hadn’t quite yet ruined a future marriage and possibly his longest standing friendship. 

Getting back into his routine was easy enough. The university granted him his position back and the girls were elated to see him again; he felt the same way. He started swimming again, food gradually gained its taste back, and he went out often to meet with Tetsurou. It was a gradual process – him getting better – much like a wound that had been drained but was still struggling to close itself shut.

Tooru no longer forlornly stared at Hajime’s messages, the typing symbol blinking back at him. 

Masumi had called him a month in to tell him that the wedding had been called off. Her voice was strong and confident – she had always been. Tooru had spent hours racking his brain to figure why he ever thought he truly hated Masumi. She had watched from afar for years his self destructive behavior – _their_ self destructive behavior – and couldn’t find it within herself to hate him or Hajime. She had moved back to her parents and began teaching at a new school; she was elated to be home again. 

She didn’t mention Hajime. 

Slowly texts from their mutual friends began trickling in on Tooru’s phone. 

_Issei: have you heard from hajime? what happened to the wedding?_

_Takahiro: I saw that the wedding was called off, do you know why?_

Tooru didn’t respond to any of them. 

It had been three months, to the date, since the bachelor party. Tooru often found himself calling Hajime, but hanging up after the first ring. His heart beat enthusiastically, but he hadn’t necessarily figured out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. 

_I’m so sorry that I love you._

Tooru constantly felt those words on his lips. He would murmur them to himself when he bolted awake in the middle of the night. His hand reflexively reaching out for the right side of the bed, only to find it empty. He dreamt vividly of Hajime nearly every night – so much so, that he swore he could feel the ghost of lips against the column of his neck. In those moments he would wrap his arms around himself, shaking his head that he wouldn’t let this consume him. It would be alright and he would be alright; he’d get over it. 

-

“Good job girls! Bring it in, bring it in,” Tooru smiled goofily at his team, the familiar smell of sweat and air salon-pas comforting to him, “I know you all are going to kill it at tomorrow’s game, don’t disappoint me! Now clean up.” The team bid him thanks before sweeping the court for the dozens of balls they had used during their practice session. Tooru gathered his bag from the bench and made his way to the coach’s office. Tomorrow was his birthday, 27; his girls joked that he was becoming a “gross old man”. He had requested the day off to spend the vast majority of it in bed and then a late dinner with Tetsurou and a few of the friends he had introduced him to. 

Tooru was giddy with excitement on his way home, he had found a new recipe he had been waiting till the weekend to try. The convenience store bag was a comforting weight in his hand as he ascended the stairs to his apartment. His phone chirped in his bag - a notification of some sort- he would look at it later. He thumbed his keys in his pocket as he rounded the corner, a few steps from his door. Tooru stalled as he took in the figure standing in front of his door. The person turned around as they heard Tooru approaching. 

Even amidst the shadows of the fastly fading sun, Tooru would always recognize that silhouette. 

He felt his next exhale catch in his throat as steely eyes met his own. 

Tooru tentatively took his next step; his footing as unsure as a newborn fawn. Hajime’s face coming into better focus as he approached. He was too afraid to blink, thinking he would disappear if he dared to close his eyes, even for a mere millisecond. Tooru registered the bag slipping out of his hand but didn’t hear it land. 

He paused in front of Hajime, a mixture of nausea and familiarity filling his stomach. 

“I promised you at eleven that I wouldn’t go anywhere. I promised you at fifteen that you’d always be my best friend. I told you at nineteen that I loved you after our first college party. I’m standing here at twenty-seven wanting to tell you that I still love you, I always have,” he paused as a tear ran down his cheek.

“Tooru, will you let me love you?”

Tooru felt the stilling of his heartbeat. The chill nighttime summer wind stinging at his eyes as he blinked back the tears edging to spill. His mouth felt like it was full of gauze; impossibly dry, his tongue heavy on his bottom teeth. 

He didn’t realize he was nodding in response till he felt warm, calloused hands envelop his cheeks. Hajime’s thumbs brushing under his eyes as he smiled even through his own tears. 

“Yes, god, yes,” he managed to croak out. His smile threatening to tear his lips at the corners. 

Hajime’s lips were so soft against his own severely chapped ones. The sting of his lips against the cuts Tooru worried into his lips was bittersweet. They weren’t drunk, no one was angry; it was a moment of clarity. 

Hajime pulled away, his hand reaching to twine with Tooru’s.

“Hajime, you’ll promise we’ll make this work?”

“Always.”

And for the first time in Tooru’s life, breathing came easy.

**Author's Note:**

> wow so that was a lot!!
> 
> i would like to give a very special shout out to two very important people:
> 
> char, thank you for throwing this idea around with me and then allowing me to snowball it into the 10k+ monster. also thanks for making me sad enough to actually want to write this haha
> 
> anna, thank you for placing the words that i myself couldn't find and for insisting that this wasn't shit and for encouraging me to actually finish this (i promise i'll get to egg next)
> 
> feel free to drop me a line on my tumblr. kudos, bookmarks, and comments are appreciated!!


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